


Salt and Sweet Peas

by CupOfEarleGrey



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Death, F/M, Flowers, Grief, Heartbreak, Love, Pining, Regret, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 16:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupOfEarleGrey/pseuds/CupOfEarleGrey
Summary: Javier picks flowers for the woman he loves; twice. Once to confess and once to regret.





	Salt and Sweet Peas

Javier looked down at the bunch of pink flowers gripped tightly in his fist. He spent far too long picking the best ones, only the most vibrant and healthiest blooms would do. Even though he had yet to commit to his gift, she only deserves the best. However, with each step back towards camp, his uncertainty mounted.

Some might overlook flowers as a small gesture, but for Javier they held a special meaning. They were a commitment. An announcement to his love that she was more than a fleeting fancy. Flowers were how he had confessed to his first love, and thinking about what happened with her filled him with doubt in the present. He was afraid that history would repeat itself.

This fear caused him to avoid even meeting her eyes. Her feelings were undeniable, even to his cynical mind, she never tried to hide how much she liked him. It was her who started the kiss at the party. Alcohol and happiness drove emotions wild that night, none more so than when their lips were connected, hands in each other's hair - utterly breathless for one another.

That felt so long ago now as his heart pounded and stomach churned. He couldn’t help feeling that all the months of avoiding her had cooled any passion for him she may have had, that her heart had moved onto greener pastures. God knows she could have any man she set her heart to. The thought of her with another fortified his resolve to pursue her, but also filled him with dread. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman he loved found him lacking.

There was no proof he was anything more to her than a passing fancy. His looks and talent could seduce any woman, he knew that from experience, but that attraction rarely extended into love. As broken and lost as he was, Javier doubted there was anything in him worth loving. He was an outlaw through and through, sworn to be loyal to Dutch until his dying breath. He had nothing to offer a woman long term. He couldn’t raise a family or get married as a criminal. How could he ask someone to sign up for that?

He returned to the perimeters of the camp now, eyes scanning the crowd for his intended. He spotted her at a table, laughing at something one of them had just said. Javier watched as her beautiful eyes, bright with humour, flicked towards Arthur. There was something in that look that was so familiar to him it made him feel sick. He looked down at the flowers in his hands, stems half crushed by the force of his anger. He cursed under his breath and tossed them down into the dirt.

Even after all these years, he was still a ridiculous fool. Love wasn’t made for a man like him. Why should he try?

-♥-

Javier looked down at the bunch of pink flowers gripped tightly in his fist. He spent far too long picking the best ones, only the most vibrant and healthiest blooms would do. Picking them was an excuse to delay his visit and a welcome distraction. Even after all these years he was a coward, too afraid to face his own feelings. His hand shook as he walked down the hill, off the beaten track.

He knew she was around here somewhere, but never found out exactly where. Though everyone else had visited her, he could never bring himself to go. Visiting her grave meant accepting her death. That she really wasn’t coming back, that she wasn’t out wandering, with the wind blowing in her hair. That she hadn’t gotten away from the Pinkerton’s. That she wasn’t anywhere but here, living the life she deserved.

Then he saw it; basking in a pool of warm sunlight, a simple makeshift grave marker with her old, sun-faded shawl draped over it. His heart dropped at the sight, and so did the flowers. They fell to the grass as he did, burying his face into his hands. He had prepared himself for this moment for years, but all his imagination couldn’t prepare for the reality. Hot, salty tears came fast as he choked out his grief. He whined her name and saw her in his mind; the fire glittering in her beautiful eyes, swimming with emotion as he played his guitar.

If only he had given her the flowers. If he had been brave enough to open his heart to love, then perhaps their fate would have been different. She could have lived; he might have chosen her over Dutch. No, he _would_ have chosen her over Dutch. But he hadn’t. He had chosen what he always had; fear. Now she was gone where he could not follow her, never knowing if she loved him as he loved her.

He crawled to her grave, tasting the bitterness of his tears. With gentle love, he laid the pink flowers at the base of the marker. Unable to stop himself, he buried his face into the faded shawl. It was warm from the sunlight and smelled faintly of her old perfume, or perhaps it was his imagination. How long he sat there, he did not know, but he could have sworn he felt her embrace.


End file.
